


Really Weird Things

by theheartbelieves



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Ending, Canon Non-Binary Character, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunkenness, Extended Scene, F/F, First Kiss, First Time, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 11:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19927594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheartbelieves/pseuds/theheartbelieves
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley keep drinking after The Ritz. Certain topics come up...





	Really Weird Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amngell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amngell/gifts).



> Requested by @gayartdad, who wanted something related to the quote about Crowley being able to do weird things with his tongue. 😈

“Crowley had dark hair and good cheekbones and he was wearing snakeskin shoes, or at least presumably he was wearing shoes, and he could do really weird things with his tongue.”

Aziraphale didn’t think he’d drunk - drank? No, that wasn’t right - _imbibed_ this much alcohol since… well, since before the apocalypse. It’d been Crowley’s idea then too, but the results had been far more dour. This time, however, - both of them giddy with their narrow escapes and full of good food - was downright delightful.

They’d saved the world and now he was here, in his unburned bookshop, with his favourite person in the universe. He stared across the dim room, lit only by the light on his desk, and smiled at the demon. Crowley was stretched at an angle on his couch - one foot on the floor, one heel up on the arm, and one hand gesturing in the air as he went on at length about… something. 

Aziraphale’s cheeks hurt from grinning, but the happiness that flared up whenever Crowley turned up refused to abate. Crowley swirled his wine in his glass and Aziraphale felt it in his chest. Crowley nudged his glasses down his nose as he made some sort of point and Aziraphale felt his yellow gaze like a physical touch. Crowley dragged his fingers absently - rather sensually - along the quilted leather of the couch back and Aziraphale shivered.

Aziraphale sighed. He _loved_ Crowley.

“I suppose… the point is… Aziraphale, listen, the _point_ is…” Crowley wheeled his hand on his wrist in a circular motion. His face turning dark as the gesture slowed, then stopped altogether. “What was I talking about?”

Aziraphale laughed as Crowley’s frown deepened.

“Was it about dolphins again, darling?” The pet name slipped out naturally, before Aziraphale could filter the impulse. His heart stuttered in his chest; a feeling similar to descending a staircase and finding yourself one step short. It was the feeling of a short fall.

“No… definitely not that…” Crowley drained his glass and set it aside without looking, fingers lingering delicately on the rim. “Something else…”

“If we’re going to try process of elimination, we’ll be here all-”

“Oh!” Crowley exclaimed, knocking his glass over. It broke where the stem met the bowl and he stared at it for a beat as if it had personally affronted him. He snapped his fingers, restoring its form before continuing. “ _Sex!_ ”

“Sex?” Aziraphale repeated, dumbfounded. “I beg your pardon?”

“Did you know that’s what Newt and Anathema were-?” He flitted his hand vaguely and Aziraphale worried for the safety of the wine glass again. “While we were driving flaming Bentleys and sharing bodies and… all that… rigamarole.”

“I supposed we all… _deal_ with crises differently.” Aziraphale’s mind was still stuck looping the word _sex_ in Crowley’s delighted tone over and over in his mind. “Personally, I was rather too busy-”

“Have you?” Crowley interrupted him, stretching his arms over his head and arching like a particularly satisfied cat. The action exposing a sliver of red-tan skin above the waistband of his jeans. Aziraphale licked his dry lips and tried to focus.

“Have I, what?” he asked, playing dumb. He prayed that the demon wasn’t headed in the direction he suspected. 

“Had sex!” Crowley demanded, flopping his head to the side, glaring at Aziraphale, who for his part huffed and sputtered for a few seconds before gathering his thoughts.

“Dear boy, I’m an _angel_ ,” Aziraphale protested, tongue thick with drink. Despite his inebriation, he tried for his most supercilious tone. “We don’t do that.”

“Demon’s don’t either, as a rule… there were a few way back when that went in for the personal touch… never my style… anyway, that method is rather overdone in this day and age. And as for being an angel, may I point out that you’re a rather rubbish one? S’why I like you so much.” Crowley swept a graceful hand as if the compliment were of no consequence. “But… seriously? In all these years with a body - a _human_ \- body…?”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t as if there hadn’t been times where he’d… _Tempted_ was the wrong word, but having a human body came with human… complications… He was an _angel_ , dam- darn it- He was better than that; _had_ to be better than that.

He might have been able to hide from the eyes of heaven, but the eyes of G-d were another thing. It was one thing to know about these sort of things, in order to understand the sort of temptations humans faced. It was part of his job. He’d done his fair share of reading- _research_ , really… To know what he was up against.

Snippets of illustrations and vivid, purple prose traipsed through his mind with a rush of tingling heat.

“Ha- have you?” he stammered, deflecting.

It wasn’t until after he’d asked the question that he realised that he both desperately wanted and dreaded knowing the answer. Jealousy really wasn’t a good trait in an angel, but as Crowley had just pointed out, he was proving that he fell far short of the ethereal ideal. It was a fact that didn’t bother him as much as it should have.

Crowley raised his head slowly from where it’d been lolling back on the arm of the couch. His glasses had disappeared so Aziraphale got the full force of the smirk that the demon levelled at him - the lopsided slant of his mouth, the crinkles around his vivid eyes, the qwirk of his arched eyebrow. 

Crowley, capable of any manner of temptations.

Aziraphale knew he wouldn’t say ‘no’ whatever that expression portented. He didn’t want to say ‘no’.

He blinked, shocked by the revelation. They’d for so long been caught in the dynamic of Aziraphale resisting Crowley at every turn. It’d started on principle - angel and demon, after all - but then he’d gone on resisting out of guilt - guilt that he didn’t _want_ to resist. He’d feared, for the longest time, that he was in danger; that maybe Crowley was playing the long con of corruption.

And then… then… 

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, recalling perfectly the feeling of Crowley’s fingers against his, the comforting weight of a Gladstone bag of books, and the disconcerting realisation that he’d been fooling himself - clutching at straws that were never there to begin with. Crowley had never had designs on him; not in the way Aziraphale had feared.

“What do _you_ think?” Crowley nearly purred.

Aziraphale blinked his eyes open, meeting Crowley’s sly expression for only a second before staring into the depths of his drink. He was too drunk for this. Of course, Crowley had… _dabbled_. He must have. Who would say no to him?

“If you’re trying to shock me, Crowley-” Aziraphale muttered, trying to muster some of the irritation he knew he’d be feeling if he were sobre; he longed for irritation instead of this gnawing dread.

“Merely trying to suss out how you really see me, my dearest,” Crowley said, suddenly serious. Aziraphale’s gaze flitted back up, expecting teasing, but no- Crowley looked at him levelly. “I’m not nearly as debauched as you assume, Aziraphale.”

“You- you’re not?” Aziraphale stammered, thrown by the sudden change in tone.

“I’ve got rather… high standards,” Crowley mused, tripping his fingers along the rim of his empty wine glass. “It would take quite the specimen to tempt me.”

The sudden, brief tension drained out of him. They were back on familiar ground - impersonal, if flirtatious. Aziraphale took a deep breath - ah, _there_ was that irritation _._

“Think quite a lot of yourself, don’t you?” He leaned forward to pour himself another glass of wine only to find the bottle empty. He looked forlornly down the neck as if it would magically refill itself. He could miracle it full, but-

“Damn right, I do. Look at me.” Crowley paused until Aziraphale did so with a deep sigh. The demon waved a hand down the length of his body. Aziraphale was helpless. His eyes followed the trail of Crowley’s hand.

“Yes. Yes. You’re very attractive,” he huffed in exasperation to cover the way his cheeks flushed.

“I’ve got many other becoming attributes, you know,” Crowley said playfully. “I’m not merely a piece of meat.”

Aziraphale groaned.

“Humility isn’t one of them.”

“Humility is overrated, don’t you think?”

“I believe _you_ think that. I also believe that you’re going to regale me with a list of your so-called _attributes_.”

“You know me so well, angel…” Crowley snapped his fingers again and the bottle in Aziraphale’s hand refilled magically. 

He couldn’t help but smile over at the demon as he poured himself another glass. He held out the bottle, offering to pour for Crowley as well, but was waved off. He set the wine down and settled himself back into his chair, content. He had a full stomach, good wine, and his demon. The blasphemous thought that this - in this moment - was better than heaven flitted through his mind.

“Get on with it then,” he said far more fondly than he meant for it to come out.

“Do you want an itemised list or-”

“You try my patience, demon.” Crowley laughed loudly, the richness of his happiness filling the cramped space of the bookshop. Aziraphale tipped his head back and let it wash over him.

 _Happiness_. It was an emotion he felt infrequently from his friend so he savoured it, rolling the flavour of it around on his tongue. It tasted of heat and starlight; better than any chateauneuf du pape he’d ever sampled. Aziraphale cracked open his eyes and watched Crowley surreptitiously.

“I’m well-travelled, clean, wealthy…” He held up a hand, raising a finger for each point. “I enjoy spoiling those that I like and I’m exceedingly loyal.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to protest only to arrest himself. It was true, he realised. Crowley had proven himself quite the stalwart friend. The demon was also very accomplished at _appearing_ otherwise. No wonder he was so lauded down below - or at least had been until recently. Aziraphale felt a small stab of guilt at his role in that turn of fortune.

“And… I’ve impeccable taste,” Crowley said finally, drawing a snort from Aziraphale. “Don’t laugh. I choose to spend time with you, don’t I?”

“Fair point,” Aziraphale conceded, amused and flattered in equal amounts. In his opinion, Crowley had left quite a few becoming qualities off his list, but he wasn’t going to be volunteering a list of his own. “Anything else?”

“As a matter of fact, yes…” Crowley sat up, looking self-satisfied and smug. Aziraphale rolled his eyes and took a sip of his wine, ignoring the demon as he leaned forward. “I can do really weird things with my tongue.”

Aziraphale choked.

“I’m- wha-” He coughed into his fist. Crowley moved around the coffee table and patted him on the back. 

“Easy there, angel,” he laughed in a way that made it clear this was exactly the reaction he’d hoped for. Aziraphale felt his cheeks grow even hotter.

“I’m sorry… _What?_ ” He didn’t know what possessed him to ask. He’d heard exactly what Crowley had said and most definitely did _not_ need to hear it repeated, especially in this state.

Crowley plucked Aziraphale’s glass from his fingers and perched himself on the edge of the coffee table, close enough that their knees brushed. He drained the last of Aziraphale’s wine and set the glass aside.

“I’ve got a talented tongue,” Crowley repeated with a blasé shrug. “Good for more than just lying.”

He caught Aziraphale’s eye and very deliberately licked his bottom lip. Aziraphale averted his gaze, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. _Christ_ … He frowned.

“And in all your thousands of years of living, you’ve never found anyone worthy of your…” He couldn’t say. He just _couldn’t_ . He had to. “Your… _talented tongue_.”

Aziraphale thanked G-d that he was drunk because he was quite certain his cheeks were a bright pink by now. It was the alcohol, not the fact that he was suddenly hyper-focused on Crowley’s mouth, his lips, his _tongue…_

“Never said that,” Crowley whispered in a strange tone, knocking his knees against Aziraphale’s. He raised his eyebrows and Aziraphale felt his frown deepen. Something was happening and he was too drunk to connect the dots.

And then Crowley made his intentions clear.

He slipped off the coffee table and kneeled between Aziraphale’s spread legs. Crowley rested his hands on Aziraphale’s thighs.

“ _You’re_ worthy,” Crowley enunciated thickly, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if it was the drink or emotion his voice caught on.

He shook his head. Too drunk. Far too drunk to deal with this. He focused as best as he was able, the alcohol leaving his system with a feeling like being wrung like a washcloth and giving him horrible dry mouth. He forced himself to swallow.

“This joke is in poor taste, Crowley…” he rasped. Hope pushed up hard inside him, straining against his breastbone. “Even for yo-”

Crowley raised himself up, closer to Aziraphale - close enough that he could see the differing shades of yellow in the demon’s eyes; close enough that he could feel Crowley’s hot breath against his lips. He leaned hard on Aziraphale’s thighs, balanced precariously.

“ _Aziraphale…_ ” Crowley hissed. “I thought I had… _lost_ you… I thought we were going to die without… I couldn’t- couldn’t bear…”

Despite there not being an ounce of alcohol left in him, Aziraphale still felt drunk and reckless. It was Crowley’s effect on him. The demon was offering up exactly what he’d longed for for so long and instead of the pure, abject terror the mere idea had conjured up in his most idle moments, the reality of it filled him with _power_.

He ran his hands up Crowley’s arms, over his slim shoulders, and into his fine hair, as if to kiss him. It took every ounce of self control _not_ to kiss him.

“And what makes you believe that _you’re_ worthy, my demon?” Aziraphale asked in a warm tone, leaning once more back into his armchair. He kept his hand in Crowley’s hair, stroking - almost petting - with his thumb. Crowley swayed on his knees, eyes slitted. “You wish to prove yourself?”

Panic fluttered, butterfly-like in Aziraphale’s gut, but he spread his legs and uttered the challenge.

“Then prove yourself, Crowley.”

Crowley’s chest heaved, his eyes turned black as his irises dilated completely, and his fingers dug into Aziraphale’s legs.

“How?” Crowley croaked. Again, the tip of his pink tongue flitted out to swipe over his lower lip. Aziraphale let his hands drop to the arms of his chair to keep from hauling the drunken demon up into his lap and chasing after that wicked, silver tongue.

“You’re the expert here. Do your worst,” Aziraphale ordered in a soft tone. He smiled gently at Crowley. “Or your best, as it were.”

Crowley swallowed hard, adam’s apple bobbing uncertainly.

“But first, I want you to use that clever mouth of yours for something else.”

“Anything,” Crowley breathed, nearly reverently.

Aziraphale reached out and cupped Crowley’s cheek. His skin was hot to the touch; smoldering. He dragged his thumb across the demon’s lower lip.

“Tell me what you’ve done… what you know… what you want to do to me…” he whispered, realising that he was licking his own lip as he touched Crowley’s.

And then Crowley took Aziraphale’s thumb into his mouth, holding it between his teeth and swiping his tongue over the pad. It was over in a second. Crowley slowly flashed him a smile fit for the damned. _Temptation accomplished_ , Aziraphale thought, breathless. 

“I may not have much in the way of partnered experience, but I know quite a bit about solo play…” Crowley nearly purred, settling back on his heels. It was as if the demon sensed he had Aziraphale under his power. His shoulders unclenched, he smiled, and he relaxed his fingers, stroking Aziraphale’s thighs. “Is that the sort of thing…?”

“Yes…” Aziraphale panted. “ _Please_ … tell me…”

“I touch myself most days,” Crowley whispered, trailing his fingers lightly - almost tickling - up until his thumbs met at the join of Aziraphale’s legs, tracing up and over Aziraphale’s erection. He hadn’t even realised he was hard until Crowley touched it. Aziraphale inhaled sharply, despite himself. “Please tell me you’ve at least done that.”

Aziraphale shook his head. Crowley sighed and mimicked the action in disappointment. 

“You’re missing out, angel. So much pleasure… up for the taking…” His fingers tripped up and over Aziraphale’s fly, tantalising.

“Tell me, Crowley…” Aziraphale breathed. He needed to know.

“I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t sink fingers into myself…” His eyes became unfocused for a second. “I want to make you feel like that.”

Aziraphale swallowed thickly. He couldn’t speak so he nodded instead.

“Is this okay?” Crowley hesitated, fingers hovering over Azirphale’s belt.

“Yes…” Aziraphale could hardly get the affirmation out. There didn’t seem to be enough air in the room. Crowley’s fingers were deft, tugging and unfastening with an impressive single-mindedness. Sudden doubt washed over him and he covered Crowley’s hands with his own.

Crowley had spoken of sinking fingers inside himself. He’d never put much thought into the way he arranged his body. It’d always been more a sartorial decision than one of… _pleasure_ … but now he felt like he might disappoint-

Crowley looked at him, brows furrowed. He looked fragile, like a wrong word from Aziraphale could easily break him.

“Too fast?” Crowley asked, tone already resigned.

“No, darling…” He paused a second to gather his thoughts. He’d known Crowley to play with the way he presented his body to humans; had known him to play in the grey spaces of the silly human binary. The demon had little regard or care for human conventions. Aziraphale, for his part, was rather more traditional. “How… how do you… want me?”

Crowley flicked his eyes over the way Aziraphale was slumped down in the armchair.

“This should be just-”

“No- Crowley…”

The crinkle between Crowley’s eyes deepened as he frowned, confused. Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to say it, so he pressed down over Crowley’s hands cupping his erection.

“How do you _want_ me?” He emphasised his meaning by squeezing both their hands. The pleasure of it - _Crowley’s_ hands, _Crowley’s_ desire, _Crowley’s_ need - knocked the air out of him. The emotion hung thick in the air around them like the finest perfume, lingering in the nostrils and on the back of Aziraphale’s tongue.

Crowley’s features smoothed suddenly, growing painfully soft. The corner of his mouth quirked up fondly. That expression tugged at something tender inside Aziraphale.

“Oh… angel… Can’t you see?” Hope wove its way through the atmosphere of desire; clean and pure and irresistible. “I want _you_.”

Ariaphale fisted a hand in the short hair at the back of Crowley’s head and tugged him up, meeting him halfway. The demon made a noise between a choke and a whine, hands flying up to clutch at Aziraphale’s arm and chest. The needy sound was cut off by Aziraphale’s lips - firm and deliberate; passionate and restrained - against Crowley’s slightly chapped lips.

 _I’m already yours. Yoursyoursyours_ , the kiss screamed, and Aziraphale didn’t know if the sentiment was coming from him or Crowley. He knew that Crowley couldn’t sense emotion like he could, but a part of him believed that something of what he was feeling would get through. He pushed one thought at Crowley with the entire force of his will; with centuries and millennia of longing behind it:

 _I love you_.

He abruptly released Crowley and sat back, trying to catch his breath.

“As you were…” he ordered in a tone that was far more authoritative than he felt.

Crowley blinked, dazed, slumping back onto his heels. The colour in his cheeks was high, lending a pink tinge to the demon’s natural reddish hue. Aziraphale found it rather becoming. He touched the tips of his fingers to the blush, pads tingling from the unnatural heat.

He let his hand drop and keeping eye contact, unfastened his belt. While Crowley stared up at him with open awe, he shifted his physical form. It wasn’t one he’d occupied before, but he’d recently shared a body with Madame Tracy and thousands of years of reading were suddenly, certainly coming in handy.

Slowly, he popped the button at his waistband and then dragged the zipper open. Already, he noticed how different it felt.

The buzzing seemed to wake Crowley from his trance and his hands joined Aziraphale’s, tugging and pulling at the fabric. Aziraphale raised his hips, watching Crowley as Crowley hungrily looked at the skin he was uncovering. He got Aziraphale’s trousers down to mid thigh and froze.

His eyes darted up to meet Aziraphale’s.

“ _My angel…_ ” Crowley breathed in disbelief, eyes flicking back and forth between Aziraphale’s gaze and the mound at the join of Aziraphale’s thighs. One of his hands reached, paused, hovered… 

“I want to know what it feels like for you,” Aziraphale whispered, spreading his legs as much as he could given the restriction of his slacks. Crowley moaned at the sight, attention rapt. Aziraphale felt physically vulnerable in a strange new way. “Besides, I’m sure I’ll be returning the favour soon enough. Teach me well, Crowely.”

A steely, determined look settled on the demon’s handsome features and he tore at Aziraphale’s trousers. They got stuck around Aziraphale’s ankles and he left them there, too impatient to untangle them.

“Dear boy, I’m not-” The rest of his sentence - _going anywhere_ \- was lost forever as Crowley bodily lifted Aziraphale’s legs, bound as they were, and ducked underneath them so that the backs of Aziraphale’s thighs rested on his shoulders. The sudden, forceful movement dragged Aziraphale to the edge of his chair where he felt in imminent danger of slipping off and onto the floor.

But none of that mattered.

Nothing else in the world mattered.

Because Crowley’s hot mouth was on him; tongue flat and firm and dragging up the sensitive parting in Aziraphale’s flesh. Pleasure shivered up his spine and along his limbs.

“ _Oh… Crow… ley…_ ” Aziraphale mouthed, arching his back, head pressing hard against the backrest of the chair. There was no air left in his lungs for words.

Somehow his hands found their way into Crowley’s hair. He urged the demon on with gentle tugs, but Crowley didn’t move. Aziraphale looked down at Crowley - _his_ demon. There was no mischief there, only awe and adoration. He looked absolutely wicked and debauched with his hair in disarray and his mouth sealed over Aziraphale’s flesh.

His eyes darted back and forth between Aziraphale’s, and licked again, tongue delving deeper. Aziraphale couldn’t see what he was doing but he could _feel_ it. Crowley’s tongue swirled, tracing his entrance. He’d had no idea how sensitive the skin there would be. He petted Crowley, running his fingers through his silky, red hair, trying to convey that he should continue.

“ _Wonderful_ … my dearest demon…” he sighed. Crowley groaned and- “ _Hnngh!_ ”

Somehow his tongue went even deeper, penetrating him. It swirled, unnaturally long.

Aziraphale wasn’t complaining.

“ _Oh- oh- ohohoh-_ ” Aziraphale panted. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, but as soon as he closed them, he felt something firmer slip in under Crowley’s tongue. He cracked his eyes open in curiosity.

Crowley pulled back a little, his mouth and chin shiny with spit and other fluid. He licked his lips, giving Aziraphale the quickest glimpse of a decidedly inhuman tongue. Aziraphale’s insides clenched with this novel desire; so different than the shining purity of the devotion he’d felt for Crowley for so long.

This was sharp and hot; this wanting threatened to burn him up from the inside.

“Isss thisss…?” Crowley hissed, pushing his finger marginally further into Aziraphale. Aziraphale nodded rapidly. He needed more and he needed it now. He could feel… _something_ approaching. It both terrified him and seduced him.

“Anything… I trust you.” He cupped Crowley’s cheek and looked at him, letting everything he felt spill out of him. Even if Crowley couldn’t sense his emotions, surely he would see how much this meant to him. Just in case, he repeated himself. “I… _trust_ … you.”

Crowley pushed forward with a tentative finger, mouth open and brow furrowed in concentration. It was… _strange_ ; to be invaded in this way. The vulnerability he’d been feeling eased into something satisfying; intimate. It wasn’t an invasion; it was completion. He wanted Crowley to know him in every way possible. This was only the start of something. They were on the cusp of a whole new facet of their relationship. 

Aziraphale tipped his hips encouragingly, opening his mouth to urge Crowley on. For the first time since knowing the demon, he wasn’t going fast enough.

Then Crowley curled his finger. 

“ _Ah! Fu-_ ” Aziraphale bucked his hips, seeking more of whatever _that_ had been. Crowley leaned into him - free hand gripping and squeezing the flesh of Aziraphale’s rear - keeping him precariously balanced on the edge of his seat. Aziraphale gripped the cushion and managed - just barely - to control himself. “-udge.”

Crowley flashed a self-satisfied smirk and leaned back in, lapping slowly… deftly… from where his finger was buried inside of Aziraphale, up to the bright spark of acute pleasure that culminated at the end of each, tantalising lick.

Aziraphale felt himself losing his grip on reality; losing his focus on staying confined in this body. Light - the light of his grace - shone through his eyelids and glowed from under his skin. Crowley sat back in surprise, trapped by Aziraphale’s knees over his shoulders.

“ _Don’t stop!_ ” he begged, grasping blindly at Crowley’s arm. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but it felt rather close to dying - _discorporating_ \- but without any of the fear. Crowley had him. Crowley wouldn’t let him go; wouldn’t let him fall without catching him.

“ _Azira-_ ” Crowley croaked, eyes wide, then he moved. One second, he was kneeling between the circle of Aziraphale’s legs and then the next second, he had surged up, fusing his lips against Aziraphale’s.

Crowley’s tongue licked into his mouth, his head angled. A desperate, throaty groan rumbled through Aziraphale where Crowley was pressed against him. The demon’s fingers were still inside him, stroking and driving Aziraphale even higher than he thought possible. The light became too bright to tolerate and he closed his eyes, pulling Crowley as close as possible - hands everywhere, pushing under clothing and burning up with _loveloveLOVE_.

Aziraphale gasped and tore his mouth away, pushing his forehead against Crowley’s. The world turned white.

There was only him and Crowely in the whole, wide universe.

“- _phale…_ ” Crowley whispered, close enough that Aziraphale could feel his breath. “Darling… are you-?”

“M’fine,” Aziraphle muttered. “My mouth isn’t working…”

Crowley laughed. A warm heat spread through Aziraphale’s chest, joining the numb, lax feeling in his limbs. He blinked his eyes open, struggling to focus on Crowley’s face.

“Hello there,” Crowley said from where he’d propped his chin on Aziraphale’s tummy. His smile was open and guileless. It was a good look on the usually ornery demon. “I didn’t know you glowed.”

“‘Llo,” Aziraphale answered, grinning back at him. There was no reason to hide anymore. He’d never have to hide how he felt again. “I didn’t know either.”

“I take it that performance was satisfactory?” Crowley straightened and slowly stood, carefully stepping out from between Aziraphale’s legs. He snagged Aziraphale’s hand and pulled him up with him, then he knelt and gently pulled the rumpled slacks back up his legs and fastened them. He smiled, like it gave him pleasure to put Aziraphale back together after taking him so thoroughly apart.

“‘Satisfactory’ doesn’t even begin to cover it, my dear boy.” He smoothed his hands down over his waistcoat and then reached for Crowley, needing to touch. “I’m glad-”

He stopped himself. He didn’t have to hide but was he quite ready to reveal so much of himself? Crowley’s smile turned soft around the edges.

 _Yes_ , he was ready.

“I’m glad it was you… I’m glad it was us…” He pulled Crowley down by the nape of his neck and kissed him, thrilling with the knowledge that he could do this whenever he wanted to now.

Crowley sighed against his lips and Aziraphale felt waves of _relieflovedevotiondesirecontentmentHOME_ radiate from his demon. He pulled back and looked into the yellow-gold eyes he was so familiar with. There were no words; there would be, but for now… 

He steered Crowley until the backs of his knees hit the couch and the demon sprawled elegantly backward, still smug and smiling, but with genuine happiness crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Angel, what are you-?” Aziraphale nudged Crowley’s knees apart so he could crawl over him. Crowley swallowed hard, eyes blown wide so that they were nearly black. 

“Loving you.” Aziraphale brushed Crowley’s messy hair back and kissed him gently, putting everything he was into it. “How do you feel about that?”

Aziraphale _felt_ Crowley’s answer before he could voice it. It was a familiar emotion. He’d felt it time and time again over the millennia they’d known each other.

It was frail and strange and omnipresent. How had he never noticed it before?

 _Belief_.

“I feel…” Crowley looked lost. He touched his fingers to Aziraphale’s brow, the dip about his upper lip, the swell of his lower. Aziraphale felt as though he was being blessed. “I _feel_.”

Heaven had been stolen from Crowley and until that moment, Aziraphale had worried he’d only be a pale substitute for everything the demon had lost. But he was beginning to see that in some ways - _important_ ways - what they could give each other was far better.


End file.
